


From a Broken Point of View

by catsandspacestuff



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsandspacestuff/pseuds/catsandspacestuff
Summary: this is working off of the last works about my guardian Venus. after mourning the death of Cayde, she finally finds happiness after being in the dark for so long. so- everybody meet my boy Damarian





	From a Broken Point of View

Eternity is a long time. Eternity is civilizations sprouting from mud and collapsing under their own weight. It is stars being born only to disappear from the sky just as violently. It is endless void, constant change, the cycle of rebirth and death holding hands...Eternity is a _long time_. 

When a guardian is born they are told they greet forever in their new skin made of light and hope. No new Guardian has any concept of what this truly even means. It isn’t until their second death that it even begins to set in; a creeping coldness that never seems to leave, like stubborn dirt stuck under nail beds. With each death this truth seeps further into their souls, this never-ending infinite of suffering and peace and hatred and joy. It can be absolutely maddening. 

If I am honest, I never understood how the older guardians kept their sanity. The stories I have read about those who did, in fact, succumb to the darkness within their minds...well, let’s just say I didn’t exactly blame them. It is difficult to be out in the wild alone. Perhaps it is why many guardians keep on a steady track of constant missions. Hell, it was what _I_ had done until recently. It is easier to avoid those whispers in your mind if you are busy. However, they become loud in the moments of waiting, the camp outs on various planets, the times of quiet before you go back into the fray. It is...disturbing. 

I was so used to being alone. I never minded it. When you are alone you do not have to worry about protecting another, thinking for another, calculating your moves around the habits of someone else. I could vocalize my hatred for the voices when they got bad. I never had to censor myself. It is easier even when it is not. I never thought, nor did I have reason to believe, that I would have these ideas challenged. Certainly not by another Guardian. 

We stumbled upon one another on Io during an assault from the Taken. I had come to his aid, laying down a healing rift and covering him so he would have a chance to reload. He had thanked me which I remember thinking was odd. I had been doing my job, I didn’t need to be thanked. He, obviously, had thought otherwise. We fought together for awhile, beating back those demons to whatever hellhole they had crawled from. During the whole fight, this Hunter had hooted and hollered in pure joy, asking if I had seen the shots he had made and laughing as if he were playing a game. He congratulated me on my own achievements which, while it had felt strange at first, actually got me to smile for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

When the dust had settled, he asked if I needed to turn into Asher, stating that he had data that needed transfering. I declined, telling him I had business at the Tower to which he told me he would meet me there after. Before I had the chance to even decline his offer, he had taken off, giving me a wave and an “Adiós amiga!”. The whole interaction had left me rather confused though I figured after a moment that he was just being nice. I made my leave, not thinking too much about it as I travelled back home. 

I was doomed the moment I went back to the Tower. I realize now, looking back, it was inevitable. 

I had been in the market exchanging glimmer for a new book when I had felt fingers lightly tap on the back of my shoulder. Turning, I had to look up to look into his face as the other stood a full head taller than me. Something deep within my gut fluttered to life in that moment. His eyes reminded me of freshly brewed coffee; deep and rich, reflecting the light like dancing pools of life. His hair was black as night and sat messy upon his crown, a few strands falling into his face which he constantly tried to push away. The bridge of his nose was crooked ever so slightly before running down into a rather prominent point. He had a smile that lit up his whole face and an ever so slight gap between his two front teeth which, somehow, made his smile even more inviting. Freckles littered his cheeks, only highlighted by the blush that had come to his tan skin as he looked at me. 

Oh _Traveler_ , he was like something out of a dream. 

“I recognized your armor, though, I’ll be honest, I was a little scared it wasn’t you.” he had said. “I completely forgot t’introduce myself back on Io. I’m Damarian!” With this, he had extended a hand, the other coming to rub the back of his neck. Nervousness colored his features and I felt a smile creep onto my own. I took his hand in mine in greeting and felt the Arc Light radiate through his fingertips. Before I could stop myself, my Void Light reached back, meeting his in a way that felt far too intimate for a first meeting. He must have felt it too, for the look in his eyes told more than he was willing to say. 

I had always been told that Hunters and Warlocks did not mix well. Something about absolutely opposite ways of looking at life, combat, data...There was an inkling of truth to this, I suppose. Damarian and myself certainly saw things differently. However, this was so far from a problem it was almost laughable. It led to sleepless nights spent in detailed conversation, exchanging of ideas and theories, to balanced and exciting combat. He accompanied me to the Great Library and I to his Speakeasies. I learned a wordless language passed between Hunters and I taught him new ways to channel his Light. We took missions together, conquering them in ways I had never done solo and explored places neither of us had ever been before. 

Then, there was the music. Damarian had shared with me his love of song very early on in our friendship, showing me an old guitar he had pawned off of someone and fixed up. He had even painted it to match the design that his Ghost, Ares, adorned. He took it with him everywhere, placed almost like a fourth weapon slot. He would show me songs he was writing and ask for my input and sing me the others he had crafted or learned. I started finding music for him from the Golden Age which he seemed to really like. It made my chest ache to see the smile on his face when I did so which only fueled me to find more. 

Things changed when he caught me singing to myself. It was in the early morning hours after a long night spent outside of an enemy encampment. I had relieved him halfway through the night and had assumed that he was still asleep. It was a song he had sung to me quite a few times; a soft song about the singer needing the love of the woman they were infatuated with. I had been in the middle of the chorus when I had turned back towards him to grab my pack. He was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. The look on his face was something dreamy with a smile so soft it made my heart race. I felt the words catch in my throat and my face heat up which only made his grin grow. Flustered, I threw something at him to distract him and told him to grab his things. Then he moved and crawled next to me, laughing before touching the hand that was on my bag. I remember my head spinning a bit like I had forgotten to breath as he told me he liked the sound of my voice and that I didn’t need to be embarrassed. I dared to look up at him and immediately wished that I hadn’t. 

His eyes held so much of his soul, they seemed to talk on their own. I had never been looked at like that before. His expression was so soft and warm, like I was something to be adored. Then, his expression changed once more and he looked like he wanted to say something but the slight upcurve of his eyebrows told me he was afraid to do so. I looked to his lips for a moment which made him swallow hard. Then he pulled away, faking a laugh and saying we should get going before we wasted the whole day. 

Things changed after that. If it were possible, we spent more time together. Time not spent on duty was shared within each other's lofts within the City. He helped me take care of the various plants I had acquired from my exploits and I helped him organize his workspace. Slowly, we began exchanging soft touches. Fingertips on wrists or a waist, rouge strands of hair being pushed aside, lingering hands when exchanging items. It wasn’t until we went dancing together that I felt his hands fully on my skin for the first time. It was a song with a rather sultry beat that he had requested. The rhythm was enough to get lost in but the way he pulled me into him sent my mind spiraling into the abyss of intimacy. What we had was something deeper after that and these weekly trips to the dancefloor became a regular getaway. 

He began calling me affectionate names such as “bella” or “chica” and eventually “amor”. It wasn’t long before I was returning his sentiments, the action becoming almost second nature. We continued to grow close and eventually he stopped going back to his place. More and more of his things ended up at my flat, seamlessly fitting in with my own belongings. Within a month of this move, he asked me to clear my plans for the night as he had a surprise me. We spent the evening walking around the busy city streets visiting with various vendors and exploring the pathways that wove their way through the City. 

Close to midnight, he took me to a spot high above everything else that he told me was his “thinking spot”. From here, we could see everything, all the way to the mountains he and I remember so very clearly not too long ago. It was quiet, the City below hushed yet alive and thriving. I felt him take my hand in his own and I turned to look at him like we had done many times now. I must admit, I almost laughed at the look on his face. 

Never had I seen such fear in those dark eyes of his. I had seen him face a Gate Lord on his own with reckless abandon and joy, yet in this moment he seemed to be battling the urge to _run_. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he interrupted my thoughts. His voice was shaking but he managed to articulate nonetheless. 

“Venus,” he started, “if you had told me that day I went to Io that I would be here with you as a result of gettin’ too cocky in a fight, I woulda told you that y’were crazy.” Now I _couldn’t_ help but laugh which seemed to relax him a bit as he smiled, continuing. “But, damn, am I glad I decided to go fill out Aher’s ridiculous requests. I’m even glad the Taken decided t’show their ugly faces. More than anything though, I’m glad y’stopped t’heal me.” He shifted now, moving closer. I found myself mirroring his posture as I faced him more head on. 

“Y’make me so happy and, well, I was wonderin’-I mean if y’would want to-” Damarian took a sharp breath, almost seeming to reset himself before he met my eyes once more. “I want t’ask you t’be my girlfriend. I want t’give you the whole galaxy and all that it has t’offer. I wanna be there by your side both on and off the battlefield. So, if you’ll have me-” 

I barely let him get those last words out before I had taken his face in my hands and kissed him. I felt his surprise in his posture though he quickly relaxed into it. His lips were impossibly soft and my head began to buzz as I felt his Light reach out to me. It felt like a blanket of electricity enveloping me, drowning and filling me. I felt my own Light respond and, just before I was completely lost in his, my Void washed and cooled the burns he was beginning to leave. I felt him gasp against my mouth, telling me he was feeling the same kind of rush which only made me want him more. I don’t know how long we stayed like we were, but when we eventually came up for air we were both a mess of laughter. When he had jokingly asked if that meant a yes I gave him another kiss before eagerly agreeing. 

Eternity is a long time. Eternity is countless hours spent in the arms of someone you love. Eternity is numberless kisses and hushed whispers in the dead of night. It is the feeling of safety when you roll over in bed to touch the back of your lover. It is endless laughter, constant smiles, the cycle of uplifting each other when the other is weak...Eternity is a long time. 

And I can’t wait for _every_ second of it.


End file.
